Elementals
by Andrastre
Summary: Ginny Weasley is rebelling, and in style. Hear about brothels, midnight adventure, double lives, Malfoy, duels, and Lothiar Lockley.
1. Boredom

Elementals.  
  
By: Andrastre.  
  
Email: andrastre@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Disclaimer: All of Hogwarts and Potterverse belong to J. K., who is the goddess of my idolatry, for writing about Draco. Never would I try to steal anything from her, so please don't sue. The Changing Element, Lothair Lockley, Camille, the bouncer, Frost, and the other two girls belong to me. Please tell me before using them.  
  
Rating PG13 for swearing, high-class brothels and drunks.  
  
Set at the end of GoF, but with some things like spells and departments incorporated from OotP.  
  
Chapter One: Boredom is the death of the soul.  
  
Ginny sighed, and sank down on her bed. She was so tired, and really needed to get a few hours sleep before she had to go out that night. Not that she didn't enjoy her nocturnal activities, and not that she didn't need the money (as ever), but it was tiring.  
She smiled sweetly as the other girls entered the dorm in a wave of perfume and gossip, and retired behind her bed-curtains to change into her teddy pyjamas. This she did quickly, and calling, " 'Night, everyone. Sweet dreams", she silenced her curtains, and slept.  
Two and a half hours later, her pillow started vibrating with the silent alarm charm she used. Ginny slipped out of bed, grabbed her cloak of the chair, and let herself silently out of the dorm. She ran through the Gryff. common room, out of the portrait hole, and turned left down a narrow side-passage. Form here, via a confusing labyrinth of backtracks and detours, she reached an old tapestry on the 8th floor that seemed to flutter in a non-existent breeze.  
Stepping behind it, Ginny slipped into a long, long chute. As she slid down through 8 floors, her hair and her cloak flew out behind her, a swirl of scarlet silk on the black wool.  
At the bottom, she burst through a curtain of ivy to land with a bump on a grassy bank.  
Flitting across the back lawn, through a copse, she scrambled over a crumbled part of the perimeter wall, and finally joined two other girls, also in black cloaks, who were crouched on the ground. One looked up.  
"Hey, Flame. We're only waiting for Frost now."  
"Hey", Ginny answered. "She's late, how come?"  
"Dunno", murmured the third girl. Just then, Frost appeared, running along the wall to their right, and the four girls set off quickly.  
10 minutes later, they arrived at a door in a murky Hogsmeade alley where they knocked, twice, and then three times. It opened, and they hurried into a brightly-lit cloakroom.  
"So, the Hogwarts contingent has deigned to turn up at last. You're late, girls", growled the doorman (an old squib with more beef than brain, as Ginny so elegantly put it). Frost smiled nervously.  
"We're really sorry we're late- I had trouble, but it's sorted."  
"Better be", he grunted as he left the small room. All around the walls were pegs with cloaks and clothes on, and below them a long bench that ran round the room with drawers underneath it.  
The girls hurried to their own corner, and opening the drawer, proceeded to change into the colourful robes they kept there.  
  
At exactly a quarter to twelve, then the four entered the elegant dining room of a notorious Hogsmeade establishment, led by Ginny.  
  
She was dressed in dark red silk, sleeveless, with a very low corsage and a tiny waist. She swayed gracefully in high-heeled black lace-up boots, and her curly hair had been half caught up with a white ribbon, only to fall in burning swathes around her shoulders. This ensemble was completed with a red mask, which entirely hid her face. The others were similarly dressed, all with the concealing masks.  
  
They began to circulate around the discreet alcoves, checking that their guests, the corrupt élite of the wizarding world, were happy. Being fairly novel, still, all four girls were soon invited to keep solitary diners company.  
  
The Changing Element, a discreet establishment fronting onto the main street of Hogsmeade, and backing onto an unsavoury alley, had only been employing the quartet for two weeks.  
  
It catered for bored purebloods, providing good food and wine, music, luxurious rooms for those benighted far from home, and the company of like- minded wizards. Also, for lonely souls, there were ten girls. For a price they would dine and dance with guests, providing scintillating conversation, or just sympathy and approval.  
  
What they did afterwards was their own affair. If the six girls from Hogsmeade, who were of age, happened to stay the night, it was non of the proprietors business. They all wore black ribbon in their hair, to distinguish them from the four underage girls, who wore white ribbon, and were on no account to be seen on the premises after closing time.  
  
It was, of course, all highly illegal, but since many customers were pillars of wizarding society, they generally had due warning well before any authorities investigated.  
  
Ginny danced the night away with Lothair Lockley, the only son of the head of the Department of Mysteries, and an avowed partisan of the Dark Lord. But then, so were most people at the Changing Element.  
  
At five-thirty in the morning, she collapsed into bed, giggling, and slept again. 


	2. Man Proposes

Elementals.  
  
Chapter Two: Man Proposes.  
  
"Man Proposes and the Devil Disposes"  
  
An hour and a half later, Ginny's alarm went. The vibrating pillow sent spears of pain shooting through her tender head, and she groaned. Swearing blue hell, she downed half a bottle of sobering potion, and stumbled into the shower.  
By the time she went down to breakfast, Ginny was transformed. The sour taste was still in her mouth, but she could move without pain, and the pounding in her head had dulled to an ache.  
Her straight hair stuck out in two cute plaits either side of her head, and her face was obscured by thick glasses. She entered the Great Hall with all the objectionable appearance of one who had not only gone early to bed, but risen betimes.  
"Morning, Ginny", said Ron, as she passed. Ginny smiled- Lothair sure was hot stuff. "Hi, Ron", she smiled sweetly. She might go further...might.  
"Hi, Ginny", said Harry. She blushed, remembering some of Lothair's remarks last night... better not get in too deep, though.  
She glanced over at the Ravenclaw table, and was somewhat comforted to see that Frost's hangover was worse than hers. The others hadn't been very happy, having to drag two smashed girls back.  
The morning passed, in a blur of lessons, and pathetic nothing-talk with Colin, until at lunch break she collapsed at a desk in the library. Hidden in an obscure corner, behind a heavy tome, she was reading "Which Witch When". It was such a relief to cut the pure 'n innocent crap for a while, she thought. Ginny sighed.  
"Sooo, Weasley. Mmmm, looks interesting." Draco Malfoy. Behind her. Reading her magazine. Oh Fuck. She looked up at him, and opened her soft brown eyes very wide.  
"Well, I think my school work is... interested?" She smiled devilishly, and her tongue flickered over her front teeth.  
"Oho. Never knew you had so much... guts, Weasley. What would Ronniekins say, I wonder?"  
"Well now, I don't know. But I always wondered what your darling Daddy felt about you and that halfblood, Malfoy."  
Draco jumped. No one knew they were using Camille, no one except the other Slytherins who did. He smirked.  
"Touché. Lets not find out, either way, shall we?" Before Ginny could answer, he was gone. She went back to comparing London and Paris show girls, with a slight frown.  
"I'll have to be more careful," she thought. "Malfoy's the last person to trust with this sort of thing. I was lucky."  
Her mind drifted back to last summer, when it had all begun. Ever since she met Tom, it was all wrong. He showed her evil, sure, and corruption, and terror. But he had also shown her a class of people who enjoyed life more than the innocent she was then could comprehend;  
He showed her what it was like to have money, to be selfish, to forget yourself awhile, and to live life with a spice of danger to it.  
For years, she had tried to go back to what she before. Her family wanted her back undamaged, innocent and dependent, so she tried to be that.  
  
Ginny grinned wryly. She was pathetic. And it had been a relief, for a while, to lean on her parents, her brothers. To rest, and let them do everything for her. They wanted her to be ignorant, still, so she tried to be so. But after a while, the boredom started to creep in, and the irritation. Bloody hell, what did they take her for?  
At first she didn't understand where the contrary feelings were coming from. She fit so well into her part that she had almost forgotten innocence was, for her, just that. An act.  
It was late one night when, going for a walk, she understood. She didn't need them. They wanted a little sister to protect, someone fragile. But she wasn't. Not only had she bounced back from her encounter with Tom, she had gained knowledge; She was like that, she took something from everything in life, even this. 


	3. Moonlight kills

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: J. K. owns the books, S.M. owns the fic, sue the dirty crooks, remember I don't nick.  
  
Rating: PG13 for language, mean prefects, moonlight and indecent suggestions.  
  
Summary: mail, detention, potions and a missing teacher.  
  
AN: Thank you so, so much to ~*TiNkErSbEll*~, "Almost Infamous", " OtterMoon", "Miss-witch", and "Lady-Frenzy", who all reviewed my fic, and encouraged me to continue.  
  
Chapter Three: Moonlight kills.  
  
"And by whose hand did I arrive here, set down,  
in this place where moonlight kills?"  
  
Ginny returned to the present with a jerk, as Hermione flopped into the chair opposite her, and cleared her throat.  
"Oh. Hi, 'Mione."  
"Ginny. I think there's a letter from your mum. It came with Ron's owl."  
"'Kay. Thanks, 'Mione." Ginny jumped up and left the room, making for Gryffindor tower.  
She arrived there a little out of breath, and grabbed the letter off Ron, just before he had time to open it.  
"My mail, I think, Ron. Thank you," and she disappeared up the stairs to fetch her books for afternoon lessons. The letter could wait till later.  
Afternoon lessons, as it turned out, was double potions. The one lesson she couldn't count on her innocent looks for. Still, one could but try.  
Ginny entered the dark dungeon behind Rain and Colin, and took her place in the back corner, before most people had arrived. Whilst she and Rain teased Colin for his crush on Alys, a Ravenclaw, the class filled up with Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.  
After a while, Ginny looked up. "Hey, the lesson should have started ages ago. Where's Professor Enshaw?"  
Others were realising this, and the murmurs were just verging on a full scale riot, when the door burst open, and a couple of prefects stormed in. They stopped at the desk, and glared around.  
"Shut up!" one of them snapped. "Sit down, all of you. Now."  
"Great," Colin sighed as the room subsided. "A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff."  
"Better still, Malfoy and Peterson", Rain agreed, groaning theatrically.  
"Gryffs over there, ten points each!" Malfoy snapped, at exactly the same time as Peterson roared,  
"I'll see you three afterwards!"  
Heads turned in the now silent room, as Ginny glared her indignation at being included.  
"Yes, Weasely," Malfoy drawled. "Doesn't seem to be your day, does it? Books pages 28-74, and all the questions on page 82. Get on with it."  
Everyone, including the three in the corner, settled down quietly, their brains seething with conjecture about Professor Enshaw.  
At the end of the lesson, the Gryff trio stayed reluctantly behind, waiting to hear Malfoy and Peterson's remarks.  
"So," Peterson started pompously, "You think that its permissible behaviour from three students of Professor Dumbledore's to criticise the prefects supervising them? You think that lessons are an amenity put on by teachers and prefects for your amusement? You think that Mr. Malfoy and I left our own studies, far more important than your own petty lessons, just to be groaned at?"  
Colin and Rain glanced at each other, and then at the floor. "No", they chorused. Ginny, however, had been getting to look more and more like a thunder cloud all the way through this speech.  
"In this case, you will agree, I am sure, that Mr. Malfoy and I are owed no small apology. We have been, understandably, grossly offended by your completely unprecedented and unreasonable behaviour."  
"Yes", chorused the two, still fascinated by the stone tiles on the floor. "We apologise, Mr. Peterson. We apologise, Mr. Malfoy."  
Peterson looked expectantly at Ginny; "Well, Miss Weasley?"  
At this use of her hated surname, Ginny finally lost it.  
"'But I didn't do anything. I'm not in the wrong, you are, you pompous old ass, for keeping me here when I was well behaved!"  
Peterson swelled up to twice his size. He was just starting towards her, scarlet faced, when Malfoy, who had till then been observing with amusement, stepped smoothly forward.  
"Peterson, you're going to be late for your -ah- appointment. I'll deal with the little one. You two, you can go."  
Peterson stormed out of the room, and Rain and Colin followed in his wake, casting terrified, pleading glances back at Ginny. She knew what they meant: for heavens sake, keep your mouth shut.  
"So..." Malfoy's drawl brought Ginny round sharply to face him. "What have we here? I should think that was somewhat ill advised, little Gryff."  
"No more than your coming to this lesson at all", Ginny remarked, deciding to fight back. "I don't like your ugly face... where's Professor Enshaw, Malfoy?"  
His face was blank, white as the driven snow. She wished he wouldn't just stand there, looking like a heavenly being. It freaked her out.  
"Officially, Professor Quint S. Enshaw was ill today, angel. But...well, lets just say the moonlight got her. I believe the moonlight disagreed with her, and that can be very painful."  
Ginny just stared blankly, her brain a mass of seething conjecture. Moonlight?  
"Now, about that stupid outburst earlier on," he continued, "I think that and your insult to myself just now deserve at least a detention. Yes, meet me here at 10.00 PM, the night after next. That should work."  
Ginny first looked relieved, and then remembered where she had to be at 12.00 that night, gulped, and went slightly pale.  
"Er, Malfoy, I can't, um, can't make it."  
"But angel," he said in mock astonishment, " 'Detention takes priority over all extra-curricular activities.' Surely you know that."  
Ginny was getting desperate. That might be so, but you don't tell your thug employer that you had detention. She looked at Malfoy sideways.  
Then she slid up to him, and whispered, close in his ear, "I could make it worth your while to let me off." Her tongue flicked round his earlobe, before he pulled away.  
Face as pure as driven snow, but a pulse beat in his throat.  
"I'll pretend that didn't happen, Weasley. You better watch your step. I don't know why I've been so lenient, it won't happen again. You can go now."  
Ginny left, quickly, her face already flaming in embarrassment. She ran, oblivious to other students, and kept running, until she reached her own private sanctuary.  
She was in a small room on the fifth floor, accessed through a trap- door, which appeared only when you knew it was there, and needed somewhere to hide.  
Ginny had discovered it by accident, on a nocturnal visit to the kitchens, when Filch suddenly appeared in the corridor. She slipped inside an empty room, praying he'd go away, and then realised he was making straight for the room she was in.  
She'd stood there, wishing the floor would open and swallow her, imagining it happening, while Filch fumbled with the door handle. And suddenly, it had.  
The room was luxurious, with bowls of roses, and full of butterflies fluttering around. That was a charm she'd learned from Rain.  
Ginny collapsed into a chair, and waited for her blush to subside. She hated Malfoy! Could she have humiliated herself more thoroughly? She'd blown her cover, again, and how was she going to manage on friday ? He'd better not keep her late.  
Then she started to think about what Malfoy had said of Professor Enshaw. Officially ill: that implied that illness was just an excuse, and that he knew better. How come?  
And then the moonlight. What the flying fuck was that meant to mean? The moonlight disagreed with her, and that can be very painful.  
That last bit sounded like a threat: don't meddle. As for disagreeing, that wasn't surprising. Quint S. Enshaw was a maniac for the truth, going straight to the heart of things without considering people's feelings, and despising all subterfuge. Many pupils joked that she seemed to know more about them than they did themselves.  
Well, Ginny thought, Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one with contacts, and she had one advantage over him: few people would ever suspect her. She'd play the innocent.  
It occurred to her to wonder why he told her even as much as he had. Probably to frustrate me, she thought. Annoying git. 


	4. The Opposite

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: J. K. owns the books, S.M. owns the fic, sue the dirty crooks, remember I don't nick.  
  
Rating: PG13 for extreme language, desire and a late night out.  
  
Summary: an interesting detention, gossip, a suicidal prefect, and Harry to the rescue.  
  
Chapter Four: The opposite.  
  
"The opposite of love is not hate, its indifference."  
  
Friday night. Ginny had sent the day in a fever of worry, distracted and preoccupied. She had to get her act just right tonight, or things could go so wrong.  
Reluctantly, at ten o'clock, she put the finishing touches to her appearance, and left the dorm for Enshaw's classroom. Her hair swung in a long plait down her back, and she had put some subtle touches of make up around her eyes.  
When she reached the classroom, Malfoy was sitting on a desk, his head bowed on his hand. He looked tired, or depressed. Really depressed.  
His back snapped straight as she entered, and his face resumed its impassive mask.  
"Ah, Weasley. Right. Enshaws floor needs scrubbing, I think. You'll find all you need in that cupboard. And, Weasley? No magic."  
"Malfoy, you git. You wouldn't know how hard that is, would you? I expect your marvellous mama has house elves to do all hers, doesn't she."  
Malfoy just stared in high-bred surprise, and Ginny could have bitten her tongue out. What happened to sweet 'n innocent, she asked herself angrily.  
He didn't say anything, although the pulse was beating erraticly again, and she got down to work with as humble a look as she could muster.  
For half an hour, Ginny scrubbed in silence, Malfoy watching. Her hair had swung free of the plait, and fell around her shoulders.  
Malfoy stared. Her robe had slipped off one shoulder, and the contrast between icy skin and fiery hair was beautiful.  
Ginny swore under her breath. The straightening charm was wearing off. She grabbed her wand, and twisting her hair on top of her head, stabbed the wand through.. Ye gods, he never knew the little Weasley could look disheveled, or that she had wavy hair...  
"Weasley, your hair is wavy." The words were out before he could stop them, and he was bending over her. He scooped up a stray strand in his hand.  
"You missed some", he said, marvelling at the silkyness. She flinched back from his touch sharply, and he came back to himself. Oh my god, the little bitch was seducing him, he thought irrationally.  
Ginny felt a shudder of pleasure run violently through her, at his surprisingly gentle touch. Malfoy? Gentle? She flinched away quickly, confused, and clinging to her role to subdue the strange feelings.  
"You missed part of the floor. Over there. That's called a stain, Weasley, although you might not know the difference between clean and dirty, being such a slut." Malfoy pointed to a huge area of damp, spotless floor she had just cleaned.  
Anger set in, and Ginny, tight lipped, threw herself at the tiles. How dare he touch her? What did he take her for? She hated him!  
He takes me for just what I acted like, she thought, remembering the incident earlier on, and irrational tears stung her eyes. Her hand wavered on the tiles.  
Weasley was scrubbing like someone demented. Probably wishing it was me instead of the floor Malfoy thought, with satisfaction. Then, suddenly, he felt hurt. Christ almighty, what's the matter with me? he thought. Ginny paused.  
"Get on with it, Weasley. Hurry up." No response. "Weasley?"  
She keeled over in a dead faint. Malfoy groaned. Just what he needed.  
  
* * *  
  
Ginny shook out her robes, and turned to help Storm with the clasps on her robe. It was a grey green bluish colour, like the sea on a clouded, windy day. Storm's black, static hair hung straight to below her waist, and her large eyes, through the slits of the mask she wore, glittered slate grey.  
"What's the matter, Flame? You've been abstracted, to say the least of it."  
"Yeah," chimed in Frost. "I'm surprised you didn't just forget to come. You look dead tired, too. "  
"Nothing", Ginny said, thinking of all the anger, confusion and shame. When she woke up, she thought Malfoy looked worried. He was bending over her, and for a minute, she'd hoped he was going to kiss her. Her head ached- she groaned, and Malfoy drew back. His face smoothed out so quickly, she thought she'd imagined the whole. He sent her straight back to her dorm, of course.  
"I suppose the work load, and the nights out, are starting to get to me." I need a boy. How long is it since my last boyfriend? Ages, she thought.  
The other girls glanced at her face, but decided to leave it. Ten minutes later, they entered the dining room.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco flung out of his room, and went striding down the passages, pulling on his cloak as he went. People he passed took one look at his thunderous face, and crossed to the other side of the corridor.  
He left the school through a side door, and set out quickly, watching with satisfaction the prints his feet left in the virgin snow.  
That bloody little girl. The image of her, lying on a dank stone floor, white and pathetic, rose before his eyes. So sweet, so vulnerable, icy cold and unreachable.  
He scowled. This wasn't meant to happen. What right had a Weasley to look nice? They were all pathetic, anyway...he hated Weasleys. She was so simple, so straight forward...he didn't understand her. Nothing but contradictions.  
Next to Ginny icy, unreachable and vulnerable, rose Ginny fiery, hurt and fighting like a cat, her face flushed fiery red in indignation. Draco quickened his stride, trying to escape from the images, and walked bang into the tumble down old wall.  
"Argh! Bloody cow! Little thrice damned seducing, innocent, pestiferous, bloody conniving slut!" he shouted at the wall. Luckily, he was now out of sight of the castle. His words echoed emptily around him, and he scrambled up the wall, and sat down.  
Well, he was a Malfoy. So he was going to sit down and work this out logically, to his best advantage. He hated the Weasley girl, who it was below him to hate. He saw her, glaring at him. No, he didn't. Yes, he did. Be frank with himself. Realistic. He hated her, with a possessive, passionate, icy rage. If father ever realised he was bothered about the Weasley girl, or anyone else for that matter, his life wouldn't be worth living.  
She had dared to defy him...defied by a young girl... her eyes full of hate glared in his brain. Draco flung himself off the wall, in a frenzy to escape from them, to reach them, and fell for ten feet. He hit the snow with a dull thud.  
There, in the snow, lay a boy. His face was pure white, the sweep of his leaden silver lashes shadowing the hollow cheeks, his silver gilt hair spread out like a halo round his head. This in startling contrast to the deep black robes cast around and under him, against the bright whiteness. A study of light and dark. A fallen angel.  
The fall cleared his head. He came round after a few seconds, sat up gingerly, and shook himself. All right. He'd just nearly killed himself, because of a little kid. He thought for a minute, and decided that the best thing for him now was the ultimate remedy...a night at the Changing Element. He'd find a girl there to make him forget those eyes.  
Draco glanced at his watch, and realised he was nearly too late. They closed the doors in ten minutes. He set off at a run, tripping on tree roots, picking himself up, and dashing on.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry Potter wandered, abstracted, but, for once, at peace, through the copse outside Hogwarts. He loved to walk here, no one else knew of the place. Here, without other people, he could be me, the private person, owned by himself. Not me, the leader, owned by the millions looking to him for salvation.  
Suddenly, a tormented howl rang out through the woods.  
"Argh! Bloody cow! Little thrice damned seducing, innocent, pestiferous, bloody conniving slut!" So much for no one else knowing the place.  
Harry, responding immediately and without thinking to the pain and need in the voice, started to run. He followed the voice back to the boundary wall, and came to an abrupt stop at the edge of a clearing.  
There, in the snow, lay a boy. His face was pure white, the sweep of his leaden silver lashes shadowing the hollow cheeks, his silver gilt hair spread out like a halo round his head. This in startling contrast to the deep black robes cast around and under him, against the bright whiteness. A study of light and dark. A fallen angel.  
Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he fell to his knees behind a tree. So pure as it was. A fallen angel. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he wanted to hold it in his arms, to posses it, cradle it, soothe the pain he had heard in that voice. Keep that purety clean, and yet know that it had been tarnished by him and no other. His heart was beating wildly, his blood thrumming, and he wanted the voice to cry out like that, for him.  
The body sat up, gingerly, and shook itself. Harry woke with a start, as if from a dream, and abruptly he recognised the boy. Draco Malfoy. Fallen indeed: he was Evil incarnate.  
Draco glanced at a watch on a chain round his neck, and set off at a run. Harry stayed sat where he was for a moment, awash with shame.  
How could he have thought, no, not thought, felt like that, about a servant of darkness? What had happened to him? He owed more than this to those who had laid down their lives for him, to those who put their hope in him.  
Suddenly, as the shame receded slightly, grief took its place. The purety, the light...they had been there. Where, then, had they gone? Would he never find them?  
Harry got up, heavy hearted, and decided he'd better follow Malfoy, to see what dark plans of his needed foiling this time. He trudged off in the blond boys wake, trying to block out the confusing thoughts threatening to distract him.  
  
AN: Sorry about that. It wasn't meant to come out like this, and none of you can be as surprised as I was when things turned like that. I think the fic took on a life of its own. I just sat down to type, and when I stopped and looked up, here was this whole new plot line, not what I originally intended at all. Hope you like it. 


	5. Night is sweeter

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters in this fic, I'd publish it and make some money. They're not mine, however, as everyone knows. They're J.K's. The ideas are mine, though, so please don't copy them. (Not that I'm that original anyway.)  
  
Rating: PG13 for language, flirting, and...other stuff.  
  
Summary: one girl, two boys, three people in love, and a very annoyed girl called Lava.  
  
AN: Sorry about the spasmodic nature of my writing. The last two and a half chapters all came out in one day. If you're ever stuck for what to write, try a sandwich and lots of black coffee. I owe this sudden spurt entirely to them. Anyway, I'll stop babbling now...enjoy  
  
Chapter Five: Night is sweeter.  
  
"Roses are black and violets are grey, night is sweeter than the livelong day. Roses are rotten, violets are dead. Anger is molten, burning in my head. Sinners are pardoned, darkness is blue, honey's poisoned, cloying; so are you."  
  
Draco arrived at the doors just in time, at ten to twelve. He paused, pulling himself together, trying to look composed, and then approached the door keeper.  
The man touched his forelock. "Master Malfoy, Sir. Welcome."  
Draco smiled haughtily, and handed the man the extortionat price required on entry, along with a substantial tip.  
The man gaped; most people paid by notes for Gringotts, not cash down! Draco, ignoring him, passed on into the dining room. He sat down at a table in a quiet corner, and realised, quite suddenly, that he was very hungry.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry arrived just behind Malfoy, watched him enter, cast a deceptive charm on his face, and moved forward. The man on the door reached out and stopped him. He stared, taking in the stranger.  
"Just a minute, sir. You're new, aren't you. You can't go in there yet. Name ?"  
"Manning. James Manning," Harry answered, pulling a name from his head at random.  
"Fifteen galleons entry fee, sir."  
Harry checked . "Oh." He felt remarkably stupid. What now? "Er, can I write a check for my bank?"  
"Certainly, sir." The man produced quill and ink, and Harry scribbled quickly,  
Permission is given to the bearer to remove fifteen galleons from the Potter vault.  
Harry Potter.  
  
The man glanced down at the paper, and as his eyes widened in surprise, Harry pushed past, and into the dining room.  
  
* * *  
  
Ginny, entering the dining room behind Storm, determined suddenly to forget about the detention, and feelings and hate and Malfoy, and simply have a good time. After all, that was what she came here for, wasn't it. She glanced round the room, taking in everyone who was there, and became aware, with a tingle, of someone watching her, staring at her.  
She turned to see who it was, and her eyes met the icy grey, tip tilted Malfoy eyes that were staring at her. She first felt surprised, and then nearly burst out laughing. His effrontery in coming here, an obvious student, was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.  
Flame turned her head away, resolutely looking for Lothair Lockley, but he wasn't there. Trying to appear unconcerned, she stepped forward.  
She could still feel Draco's scrutiny, and thought with amusement of the song by The Cure: "Yeah I couldn't help but notice your eyes. They've been boring two holes in the side of my head, since the minute I arrived."  
  
* * *  
  
Draco, already started on his excellent meal, was wolfing it down as eagerly as was compatible with elegance. He looked up as the girls entered, and his eyes rested on one, about Ginny's height, with flaming red, curly hair, icy skin, and brown eyes. He stared. That was almost what an elegant, well brought up, sophisticated Weasley might look like.  
The girl swung round, and her brown eyes locked with his, before she turned away. He continued to stare, but she stubbornly tried to pretend she hadn't seen him. He thought of The Cure. "And it's not too hard to guess, from... the way you're so carefully couldn't care less, that you're really trying very hard to impress."  
  
* * *  
  
Harry walked, carefully casual, into the dining room, sat down, and stared around him. He hadn't known that places like this even existed in Hogsmeade. His eyes circled the room, and came to rest on Malfoy, two tables away, eating ravenously.  
He watched, as Malfoy locked eyes once, and twice, with a young red headed girl, and beckoned her over. He watched as she went, and felt a spurt of sick rage. The innocence, he was well aware, didn't hold under proof like this. How dare Malfoy not be innocent? Malfoy was evil, he always knew that. He would take up with a shamelessly loose girl like that slut. How dare she corrupt Malfoy?  
Harry frowned, trying to sort out these obviously contradictory and nonsensical emotions. Impulsively, as in a bid for liberty, he beckoned to a girl, but then, as she approached, lost interest and turned back to watching Malfoy.  
  
* * *  
When Malfoy beckoned, Ginny recklessly crossed the room, and sat down opposite him. This could be very amusing. She smiled.  
"Good evening."  
"Hi, said Draco. So, what's your name?"  
"I'm Flame. And you're Draco Malfoy."  
Draco laughed softly. "I am. How did you know, apart from the veela looks, trademark smile and general aura of evil?"  
Flame grinned. "Well, actually, Storm told me. And you're the only Hogwarts student who'd have the effrontery to come here openly. Do I sense some angst there?"  
"Devil a bit", said Draco gloomily. "Have a drink."  
"So, what's she like?"  
Draco twitched. "What's who like?"  
"The goody two shoes little girl who put you in a flaming temper, of course."  
He reflected, wryly, that he'd have to school his countenance better. "Oh, she's a kid. Dirt poor, shameless, insolent, quiet and shy as a mouse, damnably insolent, vulnerable, hating me like hell, and entirely below my notice."  
"Well, I could try and console you for her..."  
Draco looked at her again. "Actually, you look damnably like her. That's why I noticed you."  
Ginny laughed, and quoted, " 'You've been boring two holes in the side of my head, since the minute I arrived'. So she hates you, and you want to make her love you, and despise yourself for it." Draco's hands clenched suddenly round his glass. "No. I want to own her. I want to make her scream, and cry with pain, and to be unable to leave, because she doesn't own herself." The glass snapped at the stem.  
"Oh." What else could she say? So he didn't despise her...suddenly, Ginny knew this was what she needed, had needed ever since Tom left.  
"I don't know what her problem is, if that's the way of it. If I look so like her, maybe you could pretend I am her. Just for tonight."  
"I don't know why else I called you over, really. Oh, and the Cure, "Its not to hard to guess from...the way you're so carefully couldn't care less, that you're really trying very hard to impress."  
She laughed. "So you have bad taste in girls, but good taste in music. Can you dance as well as sing?"  
He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes travelled slowly from her face down to her waist, and back again. "For tonight, I can. But you can give me your opinion, later."  
  
* * *  
  
Harry glanced up as the girl sat down opposite him, and smiled nervously.  
"Hi," she said with a flashing smile. "I'm Lava."  
Harry, busy craning past her to watch Malfoy and the girl, didn't respond.  
"So, aren't you going to tell me your name, sweetheart?" she leaned forwards across the table, and her hair brushed his hand. He jumped and dragged his gaze back to focus on her.  
"Ha- er, have a drink. My name's James. James Manning."  
Since he had gone back to staring over her shoulder, and didn't seem about to serve her, Lava, pouting, poured the drinks for both of them.  
"You know, its proper for the gentleman to serve the wine. But I never did like gentlemen. I prefer someone more- exciting."  
Harry watched in agony, unconsciously sipping the wine, as Draco and the girl smiled and talked. He strained, trying to catch what they said. He saw them get up, and leave the table to dance.  
"She's called Flame. I can fetch her, if you don't like me."  
Harry choked on the unaccustomed alcohol, and jumped up, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Lets dance", he said, and, grabbing Lava's hand, led her on to the dance floor, as near to Draco as possible.  
He didn't, however, get much chance to watch. Lava had grabbed him close, and was holding him tight, and moving so fast to the tango that he couldn't even see his own two feet.  
She spun him further and further away from the other couple. Harry, realising this, immediately started to mannouver back again.  
Her black eyes flashed indignation, she moved closer still, and, deciding it was time for emergency tactics, kissed him full on the mouth.  
  
* * *  
  
Ginny was spinning around and around, faster and faster, and it was all Draco could do to keep up. She laughed low as she leaned back, nearly touching the floor, and he laughed with her. Her hair came loose, the ribbon flying away. Then back up she swung, tantalisingly close, and away again, mocking. Only then to spin back into his arms, held close and firm.  
They danced with wild abandon and recklessness, pulling together, and away again, breathless, desire mounting.  
Then, as the dance ended, they drank again, toasting each others skill at dancing, and then drank some more.  
They danced and drank, and danced and drank, desire mounting, until their heads were spinning. Then they sat down, still drinking, and talked until they seemed to have discussed everything under the sun, and agreed on at least the half they didn't disagree on.  
Draco looked at her speculatively, and drew her out on to the dance floor again. He carried alcohol well, and still felt fine, but Ginny, now, was having trouble balancing. She clung to him, swaying, and glanced up, with fear and dependence and desire naked in her eyes. He smiled, and drew her into a slow dance, holding her close against him, and now her knees had gone weak, and he was holding her up.  
Silently, they left the dance floor, and he directed her steps, wavering more through fright and desire than wine, into the lift. At the top, she fell out, and he gathered her up in his arms, laughing in his throat. She laughed too, and held his coat close.  
He staggered into a room, and flung her on the bed. It wasn't until ten minutes later, that Storm, who'd seen them leave, but had had trouble jetisonning her own partner, arrived. She came just in time, as Mrs. Weasley would have put it, to save Virginia from a fate worse than death.  
Storm, who knew perfectly well that Flame was out of her head, and that she hadn't had any one of a number of cuts or scratches a few minutes ago, was bloody angry.  
There ensued, for Mr. Malfoy, a humiliating five minutes, at the end of which he was on the way back, and for Flame, an uncomfortable five, at the end of which she was stone cold sober.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry felt a wave of lethargy sweep over him. It was all that he'd always imagined a first kiss to be, sweet and still, and generally quite nice.  
When he looked up again, Draco and Flame had disappeared, and he didn't look for them again.  
And so he danced, or rather, let her take him with her, and drank, and kissed the girl...what was her name? And, finally, he staggered back through the woods at about two AM, thoroughly drunk, although the wine was quite light, and he hadn't really had that much.  
When he reached the wall, he tried to climb it, failed, and fell back in the snow. Oh well, he was comfortable here, comfortable and so warm.  
Draco, making his own way back, found him there a minute or so later, fast asleep. He cursed, and shook the other boy roughly awake.  
"For fucks sake Potter, what the hell are you doing? You'll freeze to death. Come on, get up, don't be a git."  
"OK, OK, bu' don' pes'er me." Harry staggered to his feet, and pitched forward again. Draco laughed.  
"How many have you had, then, rebel?"  
"Four, I think...she was very nice...whats her name? I'm a light weight, never drink, bad..."  
Resignedly, Draco picked him up again, and the two boys staggered off. This was probably going to make history as the first time a Slytherin ever put a Gryffindor to bed.  
  
* * *  
  
Ginny, now entirely sober, and worn out, was in the cloak room. The other girls were helping her to apply cosmetic charms to the more obvious cuts, bite marks and bruises. She sighed, remembering that she still had something to do.  
"Uh, Frost, or any of you, I don't suppose that "the moonlight" means anything to you, does it?"  
The others looked blank, but Storm flinched slightly.  
"Storm?"  
"Uh, look, Flame, can I come back with you? I'll explain, I suppose, but I'd really rather not right now. We can talk tomorrow."  
Ginny was vaguely surprised. "Fine, we'll leave it till tomorrow. Thanks ." 


	6. The Morning after the Night Before

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns all of Hogwarts, etc. I don't. I'm broke. Don't sue.  
  
Rating: PG13 for language, hangover and mudblood.  
  
Summary: like the title says. Various people begin to live with what they did last night, and you get to know Storms real name. Lucky you! six and a line times.  
Chapter Six: The morning after the night before.  
  
"Harry. Come on, Harry. Wake up. Quidditch practise, Harry. Now."  
Harry groaned. That voice was really starting to get to him. Why couldn't it just shut up? And why did his head hurt?  
"Go way."  
Somewhat to his surprise, the voice appeared to have obeyed him. Feet clattering on the stairs resounded in his head, and he winced. Then settled back to oblivion in the blessed silence that followed. As if.  
An icy blast of air hit him, as all his covers were yanked away. Somewhere in the region of his shoulder, an earthquake had started.  
"Harry James Potter, what have you been doing with yourself? You are going to get out of that bed this instant, or I'll know the reason why. Come on, you're late."  
He thought about that one. What had he been doing? He hadn't- surely he had not let Malfoy put him to bed? * * *  
  
Ginny rolled over in bed, and then kept on rolling. OK, so she wasn't in bed. She opened one eye. Then, in surprise, snapped the other one open. She seemed to be under bed.  
"What? How did that happen?" She lay there, and let the memories come slowly back. Storm walked her home. They came up here. Then, yes, then Storm was worried. In fact, she'd fallen asleep talking and spent the night in Ginnys bed. Because? She thought hard. Better get Storm out first, and then sort things out.  
Ginny jumped up, fresh as the morning lark, and dragged the other girl out of bed, covering her mouth with one hand. She pulled a stumbling, mumbling Storm out into the corridor, and then let go.  
"Flame! What the flying fuck do you think you were doing, manhandling me like that at six AM?"  
"OK, chill, Storm. That was my bed you were in, and god knows what Sheryll and Louise would have thought if I left you there."  
Storm, otherwise known as Katherine Duprée, from Slytherin, grinned warily, and the two girls slipped out into the gardens.  
It was two hours later that Draco, immaculately dressed as ever, was striding round the lawn. As he walked, he cudgeled his brains for answers. Why the fuck had he put Potter to bed last night- he needn't have done more than take him as far as the castle? And what would he do about the Weasley girl? He was frank enough with himself to know that he had to do something.  
  
So preoccupied was he, that he almost tripped over the two girls, sitting in their under robes in the long grass. They shrieked in unison, and rolled over at his feet.  
"Duprée, and Weasley? I suppose you two always start the day outside so scantily clad. Or is this an ambush? I know I'm irresistible, but that really is a bit much, girls."  
The two irrate girls had, by now, got to their feet, looking distinctly disgruntled.  
"You wish, Malfoy."  
"Isn't it nice to see that one person at least in this self criticising world has confidence in themselves. Quite misplaced, of course, but all the more touching for that."  
"Well Weasley, I wouldn't know about self criticism myself, but I'm glad that at least one member of your clan realises what a blot you all are on the worlds copy book."  
"Oh, come now, Malfoy. I do your father the credit to believe that just because you never wash your hair, doesn't mean he doesn't either. You might do me an equal courtesy."  
At this point Katherine, who could think of more amusing ways to pass the time, interrupted.  
"Malfoy, if you really have no better way to pass the time, you might run an errand for me. Trot along down to the kitchens and ask the house elves how Ally's third cousin twice removed is getting on. Ginny and I are busy."  
"Shame, Duprée, since when are you on first name terms with Gryffindor scum? Dont you care that she's been associating with mudbloods?"  
"Since when do I not care about halfbloods or house divisions? Hmm, lets see, Malfoy. Since Tom Riddle was mudblood. Since Harry Wanker nearly got sorted into Slytherin."  
The expression on his face was absolutely ludicrous. If it hadn't been so serious, Ginny would just had to have laughed.  
"Are you taking leave of your senses?" He hissed between his teeth, his face paper white. "That's crazy. You can't say things like that about the Lord, do you think he doesnt hear? Besides which, there's no proof. I thought you might have more sense to believe a Weasley. Look at the lies her brothers tell."  
"There's proof, Malfoy. Plenty of it. Sit down and let Aunty Katrine tell you a bed time story." * * *  
"It wasn't easy, but I think we have him convinced."  
Flame stared. "Convinced? He was furious. We're really in for it, Storm. He didn't believe a word you said."  
"Relax, you've got to give him time to turn things over in his mind," Storm replied with a wan smile. "He had to put up some show of resistance. What sort of a loyal follower would he be if he didn't? And we don't want turncoats."  
"If you say so. Personnally I cant be expected to understand the deviousness of a Slytherins mind, can I? Come to breakfast." The two set off walking across the lawns towards the main door.  
"Like hell, Flame." Storm laughed. "You're more devious than at least half of Slytherin." Ginny glanced up at her between her lashes, with a demure little smile.  
"Why, thank you Storm. I take that as a compliment of no mean order. But you might want to get dressed properly before going in there." She jestured towards the door of the Great Hall. "If I didnt know better, I'd think you were trying to start rumours about the two of us."  
"Oh yes, Flame! I'm madly in love with you!" Storm giggled. " Get dressed, grab something to eat, and meet me out here." * * *  
Ginny ate breakfast hurriedly, with one eye on Storm, half an eye on her house mates, and consequently not much attention left over for food. After about ten minutes, she caught Storms eye and slipped out of the hall. Katherine followed five minutes later, joining Ginny in the shadows and followed closely by Frost and Willow.  
"I thought they'd better hear everything there is to hear," she explained with a grin."Girls, you don't realise what an intrigue you're getting involved in. Follow me."  
Storm darted off down a side passage, barely wide enough for the girls to slip through. She led them down a disused, spirralling staircase, across a corridor, and slipped behind a tapestry. They went down again, as far as the dungeons, and stopped facing a blank wall.  
"By earth and fire, stone and sea,  
By the forms of the Lady three,  
To this door I hold the key  
I command thee open to me." The seemingly blank rockface slid aside, and they followed Storm through the aperure disclosed. 


	7. Contracts and Interior Decoration

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns all of Hogwarts, etc. My actual savings amount to 1euro 35 cents, so anyone trying to sue me has to be out of their mind.  
  
Rating: PG13 for language, blood prejudice, evil pens and Death Eaters.  
  
Summary: Ginny and Storm explain some stuff, a binding contract is signed, and four girls unite in the cause of equal rights for witches!  
  
Chapter Seven: contracts and interior decoration.  
  
Storm took them down a long, low passage-way, dripping with slime and illuminated by nothing but their own wands. The girls followed, grumbling about the mess of mud on their robes, until she stopped in front of an arched silver door. She tapped the door with her wand, and turned back to grin at them.  
"Fifteen different password charms, sweethearts, so have patience." She started muttering at the door, and, a good ten minutes later, it swung open.  
The room inside was long, with a high domed roof, silver wallpaper, a large fireplace, and innumerable chairs. It was lit by a strange green glow, and around the roof fluttered hundreds of green and silver butterflys.  
Katherine flopped onto a chair, and gestured to the others to seat themselves. She giggled at their astonished expressions.  
"This is my office, girls. It used to be an old classroom, but I think it got forgotten after about 1066, and I've been decorating it myself. Anyway, point is, I thought we ought to tell Willow and Frost. Ginny can start with her part- listen carefully, girls."  
"Oh, er, OK," Ginny glanced round nervously. "Remember in first year, when the Chamber was opened? That was me."  
"You what?!" Willow was staring.  
"Err, yeah. We were shopping for books in Diagon alley, and Draco's darling father got into a fight with my old Dad, during which he slipped an old book into my stuff. It was Riddles diary. He used Dark magic to imbue the diary with part of his soul, kind of like the sorting hat. So when I wrote in it, he wrote back."  
Frost laughed. "So, lets get this straight. You were pen palls with Tom Riddle? The Tom Riddle who became the Dark Lord?"  
"Yeah, or more like a memory of Riddle. Anyway, the point is, I'm not the heir of Slytherin, Tom is. He just used me. A memory doesn't have a body, so he possesed mine. Then, you all know he took me down to the Chamber, and Heroic Harry came and rescued me. But Tom told me all about himself, and I was able to research him afterwards. He's a mudblood. His father was a muggle, who deserted his mother when he found out she was a witch. She died, and the Dark Lord spent the first eleven years of his life in a crummy muggle orphanage. He opened the Chamber when he and Lucius were in school, he's Slytherins heir, and Harry is Gryffindors heir. Slytherin and Gryffindor were cousins, so those two are related." Flame had said all that as quickly as possible, without pausing for breath. Now it was over, and she'd told them, she sighed in relief. The secret was out.  
Frost was definetely upset now. "So you're telling me that that blood-prejudiced bastard is a mudblood himself? Bloody burning hellfire and eternal excruciating damnation! Why are we following him, then?"  
Katherine grinned. "Well, personally, Anima dear, I'm not following him anymore, as of about last night."  
"Hear hear! The cat's among the pixies for poor Tom now," said Frost with a grin. "We can't know this and not tell other people- I wonder how long it'll take for him to lose half his followers?"  
Willow frowned. "We have to be careful, though. And organised. After all, we can't just run around announcing unproven things about the Dark Lord. I, for one, don't want people thinking I'm crazy, and besides that we'll find out alot more about both Potters and Toms plans if we keep quiet."  
"Well, we already told Malfoy." Katherine looked guilty and a little pleading. "But we think he believed us. But there's more. You haven't heard my part yet."  
The others grinned. "OK, we're listening."  
"Right. The Potter boy's right- the Dark Lord is back. I don't know his exact plans, but he needs to destroy Heroic Harry first of all, and that involves the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters have been recalled- they suffered for deserting him, but they're back where their true loyalty lies now. The Dementors'll be ours- er, I mean theirs- soon, and then Bellatrix and the others will return, so we haven't got long. Tom gets his information through an extensive spy network. Only those at the top end even know they're reporting to Tom, so lots of innocent witches and wizards are involved. But the Death Eaters in charge of information are led by Narcissa Malfoy. They call it-" Storm paused, stealing herself. "They call it The Moonlight, because their agents are meant to disappear like moonlight on a clouded night. I think they actually got the idea when Montague said Narcissa's hair was like beams of moonlight. He was less than sober aat the time." Strom giggled shakily.  
"Anyway, remember Professor Enshaw's been away lately? Malfoy told Ginny the Moonlight got her."  
"Officially, Profesor Quint S. Enshaw was ill today, angel. But...well, lets just say the moonlight got her. I believe the moonlight disagreed with her, and that can be very painful." Ginny murmured dreamily, with a small smile.  
"Malfoy called you angel?! Flame, you already have half the boys in school at your feet. Don't add Malfoy, it'd be too depressing for the rest of us." Frost exclaimed with a comical look.  
Willow, however, was not to be distracted from the essential point. "I knew lots of Ministry officials are spying for Tom, I just didn't know the name of the organisation, or theDeath Eaters in charge. Who else is there?"  
"Lucius Malfoy, of course, Zabini, Goyle, and Dolores Umbridge are the Death Eaters at the head of things. Of course, after that there's loads of people working under them, some of whom know it's for Tom, and some of whom don't."  
Flame had by this time recovered from her abstraction. "Funny the way you've all picked up the habit of calling him Tom from me. Its a lot less risky- he might be aware when people say his title, but he doesn't listen for his old name any more. And it shows where loyalty lies- after all, he's not our lord, is he."  
"How do you know what he listens for, and what he's aware of?" Frost asked, curiously.  
"I don't know, really. But he feels it when someone says his name, and so do I, to a lesser extent. Bit like Harry. I mean, Harry and Tom are connected by a failed curse. But I've actually had him inside me."  
Storm giggled. "Flame, dear, that sounds so dodgy! I don't suppose you ever did?"  
Ginny shook her head. "No. I wouldn't mind now, though- he really is one of the best looking boys you ever saw. It'd be nice to have him as my first. Ah well, no use crying over spilt potion, or missed oportunities. But he's got charisma, and this odd sort of charm. I know why people who knew him as a boy follow him. "  
Willow looked surprised. "What, you mean you've never...?"  
Flame shook her head again. "What do you think my future, anonymous but extremely pure-blood husband'll say if I'm not a virgin? For me, its not a question of sex before marriage, or marriage first. Its no sex before marriage, or there'll be no marriage. I can't take that risk."  
The other girls could all understand this- they had much the same problem. But Storm frowned. "Well, you came very near to chosing no marriage last night with Malfoy, dear. Lucky I saw you- what happened, anyway?"  
Flame suppressed a shudder at the memory, whether of fear or pleasure she couldn't say. "I was drunk, all right, that's all. It was nothing. Anyway, I thought we were discussing Riddle?"  
"So, we've established that he's back, that its safest to call him Tom, and that we're all against him. We know the name of his spy organisation, and which ministry officials to watch." Susan Bones, aka Willow, was, characteristically, coming straight to the point. "We know that The Moonlight has got Professor Enshaw, but we don't know why. I think we should get our aims straight, and swear some sort of an oath. That way we'll know we can trust each other, and we won't be able to let things slide. First of all, we need to find out what Enshaw knew, and get her back. We can't leave people in ignorance of what we know, so the next thing is to start an information campaign. But it'll have to be very subtle, because we're all well placed for spying on both camps- no one needs to blow their cover right now."  
"Hey, hey, slow down!!" Frost had, as always, started paying proper attention only just in time. "Have we even agreed we want to fight Tom, yet? I mean, sure, I don't want any mudblood ordering me around, but I'm not too keen on Potty boy, either."  
"No one said we were for Heroic Harry. We just happen to have one thing in common with his group- the fact that we're both against Riddle. But I have no intention of submitting to Pottys rule either- we just form a third group: purebloods against mudbloods, both Tom and Harry. Only we get rid of Tom first." Flame was flushed, grinning. It had never occured to her, until just now, that there could be any but the two options. She was definetely liking her new idea, though.  
Willow nodded. "So we cooperate with Potty until Tom's gone, and then go from there. I could do that. Also, has it occured to you that both other groups are led each by a single person, and that those two people are wizards? We, on the other hand, represent the democratic distribution of power, and equal rights for witches!"  
"Hear hear!!" Storm waved her arms in wild approval. "Lets draw up a contract!" She produced parchment, and an ancient looking black quill.  
"The quill belonged to my grandmother," she explained."It cuts into your fingers where you hold it, and uses your own blood instead of ink. Grandmère Duprée always made sure all her contracts were signed with it. They're twice as binding that way, and even more so for a pure-blood than a half-blood, so I'd watch what you do, girls. I believe there's some highly individual curses on it." So Frost drew up the contract, with clamorous contributions and corrections from the others, and Flame was the first to sign. (See contract here.)  
While Willow whipped up a simple healing unguent over the fire, the girls gossiped and chattered.  
"So anyway, Storm, are you sure the school rules allow you to appropriate a classroom for your own purposes, never mind redecorate it?" Ginny asked, grinning.  
"Oh, Flitwick said it was OK," Katherine said, with an airy wave of her hand. "You know I'm in that Charms club of his? Well, my speciality is actually interior decoration, so I told him I needed a room to practise."  
They all laughed- little Professor Flitwick could always be depended on to fall for anything.  
"Remember the time we told him you had artheritis?" Frost continued, giggling at Ginny. "I think Malfoy still holds it against me that I made Flitwick believe it, and got you out of trouble."  
Storm raised her eyebrows. "Not judging from the way he looked this morning, he doesn't. He couldn't keep his eyes off a certain Gryffindor who wears very skimpy underrobes." Ginny felt a tell-tale blush creeping up from the neck of her robes.  
"Well, whatever he thought before, he won't want to know me now. You were really rude to him, Storm."  
Storm grinned. "My poor little innocent, the entire female population of Hogwarts fancies him, and he knows it. If you want him, you have to get his attention, prove you're different. Besides which, I'm not the one who said his hair looked greasy."  
Flame shrugged. "Well, he threw my family in my face. I can't help being related to muggle-loving tramps, can I?"  
Anima had been listening to this exchange with sparkling eyes. "But tell, girls, tell me all! How come you two were sitting outside in your under robes at that time, anyway? Always assuming, of course, that it wasn't an ambush."  
This last earned her indignant glares from both girls, but it was Storm who answered.  
"We were talking till late last night, so I just slept in Ginnys bed. Not with her, you pervert!" she added, seeing Frosts amused look. "I had to leave dorm early before the Gryffindor vestals woke up, and we still needed to talk. Filch was patrolling, so we thought our best bet for privacy was the gardens. Thats all."  
Just then, Willow declared that the healing unguent was ready, and after they had plastered their fingers with it, Storm used deceptive charms, so that the cuts would be invisible. They left one at a time, and went up to lunch with their respective houses.  
All, that is, except Ginny.  
  
A/N: Hope that wasn't too boring, and that the explanation parts were clear, and I didn't miss any essential points. Also, I tried to clear things up a bit for Morgain Lestrage. Is that any less confusing? 


	8. Hell hath no fury

Elementals.  
  
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns all of Hogwarts, etc. My actual savings amount to 1euro 35 cents, so anyone trying to sue me has to be out of their mind.  
  
Rating: PG13 for language, revenge and threesomes.  
  
Summary: Kidnapping in the dungeons, Ginny does some more of that thinking thing, Draco comes to some very strange conclusions, and three people simultaneously decide they need vengeance. Has anyone heard the Bangles song, "when the Hero takes a fall"?  
  
Chapter Eight: Hell hath no fury.  
  
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." The Bible.  
  
Ginny did intend to go up to lunch, just like the others. Unfortunately, she suffered a sudden forced change of plan in the form of an arm that shot out of the shadows near the end of the secret passage, and pulled her back into a dark alcove. The arm was clamped like a steel band around her waist, holding her hard against a chest which, even whilst in extremis, Ginny noticed was extremely well muscled. The person's other hand was held tight over her mouth and nose, cutting her breath.  
  
Ginny went rigid for a minute, fighting, and then the lack of oxygen kicked in and she slumped unconcious against whoever.  
  
She came too a few minutes later, to find a face she hardly recognised hovering over her, while someone muttered feverishly, "Come on, angel. Come on, you little bitch, wake up. Why does she always fucking faint? Oh god, just wake up."  
  
Flame was taking her time. She wasn't gonna show she was conscious till she knew where she was. Not bloody likely. It wasn't surprising, she reflected, that she hadn't recognised the face. After all, who else could boast of having seen Draco Malfoy looking distraught? So maybe Storm had been right about where his interests lay. But she'd have to move carefully.  
  
Draco stared down at the unconscious girl on the floor. He knelt down beside her and started loosening the neck of her robes. Maybe that'd bring her round.  
  
She moaned slightly, and as he watched, tears leaked from under her eyelids. A lump caught in his throat- why was she crying? Her hand fluttered up, reaching out, and impulsively he caught it to his lips, and then lifted her bodily as she started sobbing, cradling her in his lap.  
  
Flame grinned inside. So far so good, she'd guessed right- who'd have thought the Malfoy heir's weak point was pity?  
  
He was holding her while she cried, and then, somehow, she wasn't crying anymore. She was clinging to him, and her lips were trailing over his shoulder and her tongue exploring his collar bone, sending shivers through him. And his face was burried in her hair, and he was kissing her, and her body felt familiar against him. Familiar and beautiful and unknown. This was unlike any other kiss. Nothing he'd ever experienced had prepared him for this. But it couldn't be familiar, because this was Ginny Weasley. This was...this was Ginny Weasley?!  
  
Draco let go of the girl he was holding, and got slowly to his feet. His hands, he found, were shaking in the aftermath of an unbelievable passion. He watched, motionless, as she pulled herself up by one of the desks, and lent against it.  
  
"So, Draco. You accused me of ambushing you earlier today, but if I'm not mistaken then this is full scale kidnapping. Not to mention rape."  
  
"Rape? Kidnapping? What in hell do you think you're babbling about, girl? Pull yourself together."  
  
"You skulking son of a bitch. So it's not abduction when you shoot out of the shadows, suffocate me and drag me off to a dark, empty classroom like some villain out of a bad movie? And I suppose it isn't rape, either, when having reduced me to a semi-conscious state, you take advantage of me?" Ginny was insulted. No one, no one called her girl. It reminded her too much of being four years old, surrounded by tough older brothers. On top of that, he had just totally killed the melodrama. She liked melodrama.  
  
"Suffocated you? Suffocated you? I really thought you were one girl in this school who didn't do the pathetic thing, but obviously I was wrong. All I did was stop you screaming out so's Professor Snape could come and take fifty points from Gryffindor for existing. He's in a foul temper, and that's the fault of your house, too. Besides which, you can't talk."  
  
Ginny wasn't going to fall for that one. As if Draco Malfoy ever did anyone a good turn!  
  
"You knew I'm not pathetic, Malfoy (incidentally, if you don't watch out I promise I will kick your ass.), so you know I don't scream. So come on, whats the ulterior motive? And what d'you mean, I can't talk? You're the Slytherin scum here."  
  
"Oh, so I'm Slytherin scum, am I? I did want to talk to you about our conversation earlier this morning, but I see I'd better find Kathérine instead. Incidentally, you don't seem to object so much to that particular example of Slytherin scum. Perhaps there's a reason for that. You wouldn't, for example, be closer to her than your other friends? Must be the explanation for her not sleeping in dorm last night. Being such close friends, you must just have felt you couldn't bear to part. I always thought there was something rather queer about a Slytherin taking up with Gryffindor muck like you."  
  
"Are you implying-" Ginny was gasping with surprise and anger. "Are you implying that I'm sleeping with my best friend? You foul minded bastard! Just because she's one girl who seems impervious to your smarmy charms, you have to think this up. You concieted git, just because a girl doesn't want you, that doesn't make her a lesbian."  
  
"'If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to start rumours about the two of us.'  
  
'Oh yes, Flame! I'm madly in love with you! Get dressed, grab something to eat, and meet me out here.'" Malfoy mimicked, with a sour twist to his mouth. "And then where do I find you later? Just emerging from Duprées lair. Funny coincidence, that."  
  
"Its obviously useless to try to talk sense to you, Malfoy. I did think maybe you had more brains than the rest of your family. Of course, I also thought that any friend of Kathérines couldn't be all bad. But I see I must have been mistaken. When you recover your sanity, come back and apologise." With that Ginny flounced, yes, to her everlasting digrace she did positively flounce out of the room, and, just to be original, took off running.  
  
Storm found her, a few minutes later, hiding in the astronomy tower, crying her heart out against the sadly unresponsive stone floor.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart, what happened? I came to see why you weren't in lunch, and this is what I find. Sit up and tell Aunty Katrine."  
  
"Malfoy happened" Ginny growled against Storms arm, as the other girl pulled her into her lap. Storm noticed with alarm that she was shaking all over.  
  
"Honestly love", she said, trying to sound jokey and casual, "you should know by now to take no notice. What's he done this time?"  
  
"He k...he ki...he kissed me" Ginny stammered in a fresh flood of tears.  
  
"He what?"  
  
"Yeah, after he practically strangled me and carried me off to some empty room to accuse me of sleeping with you. Actually, I think it was more me kissing him. But that only makes it worse." Someones spine was returning, Storm noted with approval- someone extremely angry. As she listened, the whole story came pouring out.  
  
"Well, sweet, sit up and dry your eyes. I never thought I'd see a Changing Element girl looking so pathetic. My personal diagnosis is that Malfoy has a serious case of jealousy. That, however, doesn't excuse such rudeness."  
  
"Of course not" Flame snapped, thinking that after all, most boys were jealous of Storm, and Malfoys having joined their ranks certainly didn't mitigate his crimes. On the contrary, though she was not quite sure why this should be so, it made everything a lot worse. "We have a reputation to keep up. We can't let him get away with this, Storm."  
  
Storm giggled, thinking that never had she seen a pair of more star-crossed lovers than those two. For that they were, she was pretty sure. "Get busy thinking up original ways to torment him then, sweet."  
  
* * *  
  
Meanwhile, Harry Potter was coming to pretty much the same conclusions. He needed revenge. He had been staggering downstairs to Quidditch practise this morning, still trying to work out quite what he had been doing with himself.   
  
He had been considerably surprised to see Malfoy enter, coming in from outside, and even more surprised to note that his pulse leapt at sight of the hated Slytherin.What was he doing up at this hour of the morning? If Harry's (disconcerting) memories were correct, he hadn't exactly gone early to bed last night, either. Maybe he had been sabotaging the Quidditch pitches?  
  
But no- just behind Malfoy had come two girls. No other girls than innocent little Ginny Weasley and a hard-bitten Slytherin bitch. Together. And it certainly looked as if they had been with Malfoy, too. This needed investigating. After all, Ron was his friend. Harry sank back into the shadows, and became aware that Malfoy was doing the same, and that the two girls had not noticed either of them.  
  
Harry heard their conversation, and saw Malfoy emerge, white-faced, from his hiding place. He wandered down, late, to meet an irrate Angelina with wide, blank eyes. An awful possibility had just occured to the not so innocent minded hero. Surely not? At Hogwarts, students were mostly too innocent even to have heard of threesomes. They were a muggle perversion. But then again, you never knew. That Sly girl had a bad reputation. Poor little Ginny!But as he sat on his bed, Harry found that he was indignant, not so much on Ginnys behalf as on Malfoys. Of course it was a terrible thing that such an innocent girl should be corrupted. But mostly, it seemed to present an unbearable contrast with the pure being he had seen and loved last night. How dare Malfoy look so heart-breakingly beautiful, and then turn out so corrupt? How dare he act like a gentleman in helping Harry home, thus encouraging him to think that Malfoy couldn't be all bad, and then do this and shatter Harry's hopes? Whats more, how dare Malfoy make Harry feel anything but hate for him in the first place? That was the most unforgivable thing. Malfoy had made Harry feel. Malfoy should go down.  
  
* * *  
  
The unconcious object of all this plotting was, meanwhile, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. The silver hair, so like his fathers, spilled over and tickled the knuckles of those long aristocratic hands. This seemed to bring him to some decision. He jumped up.  
  
"OK, so, the facts are these. Tom Riddle isn't worth two hoots. In fact, I'd make a better leader than him, and I'm dammed if I'll follow him. Father is going to kill me for this. I've also fallen in love with that vixen, Ginny. No use denying things that are- I'll just have to deal with the situation in the most gentelmanly manner possible. I would say to hell with it all, since I'm already turning coats, but she seems to be more keen on girls than boys. So there's no point in doing anything, except just avoiding further conflict. Or further kissing," he added sternly to himself. "I'll just have to avoid her altogether." What he wasn't mentioning out loud, of course, were the things she had called him. That had hurt. She didn't think him capable of one decent action, even of saving her from Snape's irrational wrath. She thought he was sordid. And concieted. And smarmy. And a kidnapper. And, God help him, a rapist. And insane. "Well, that last is about right, at any rate," he murmured wryly to himself. "Right. The next thing to do is contact Duprée about what she means to do."  
  
  
  
A/N: I leave the scene of the battle, then, triumphant. With the pseudo-hero having finally taken a much needed fall, and our true hero nursing his hurt heart in the approved manner. God, that felt good. An I won't feel bad at all, when the hero takes, when the hero takes a fall! 


End file.
